He rushed for the nearest inn,
And ordered the best of the sparkling juice
Stowed away in its deepest bin.
He drank one draught, and a hectic flush
Suffused the good man's face;
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At the second draught a holy smile
Lit up the dusky place;
At the third he looked at the empty flasks,
And raised his fat right hand,
And blessed and absolved the bottles and cups,
Which he called an angel band.
At the fourth he fell in a gentle doze;
Then they carried him to his bed,
Where he slept the sleep of a blessed babe,
With a flask beneath his head.
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